Hetalia League
by SheWhoWritesFanfiction
Summary: What if the Hetalia characters were superheroes? Just sayin'.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Finally! This one's been in the works for a while; big thanks to Shewhoisawesome for helping me with a few names and stuff! And… man, this one was hard to get started! Hopefully the chapters'll get longer later! Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Hey, turn that frown upside down!" A booming American laugh echoed throughout the already noisy shopping centre. "We're here to relax, Ivan, and all you can think about is work!"

"Well, we must remain on top of things, da?" The taller man spoke in a soft Russian accent.

"Du-ude! All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy…" Spying out of the corner of his eye a golden arch, he finished his sentence with a not-so-obscure movie reference. "Aand here's Johnny! C'mon, there's nothing like a mall McDonalds!" Yanking on his companion's scarf, he led the way to the fast food restaurant; attracting many awkward stares in the process.

"Alfred, you must calm down, da? We will be recognised by a citizen, or… worse…" He looked around and winked conspiratorially to Ivan, a nearby potted sunflower (wilting in the air thick with the scent of grease), and a young girl who he thought he recognised but realised he didn't when Alfred bounded up to the counter to order. Hopefully no-one would realise their… secret identities. Wink, wink.

"We want two shakes, four hamburgers, and… a couple of those things on the poster outside that have the name blacked out."

"Alfred, I don't really want two hamburgers, and those things look dodgy-"

"Dude, what are you talking about? You still have to order."

"…Oh. Da. I, uh…" He stared at the menu emblazoned above the counter for a few seconds, clenching his teeth and looking around awkwardly with violet eyes. The bored attendant rolled her mascara-soaked eyes and shoved a Happy Meal towards him.

"The boss told you not to bring less profitable people than yourself around here, Al."

"I know, Cindy, but we're trying to unwind. It's the third anniversary of this McD opening!" Cindy sighed and dabbed a bit of eyeliner on top of her smudged kohl.

"You get so excited about this stuff, Al. I've been trying to get a better job for all of those three years."

"Hey, mister, move it!" A small girl poked Alfred in the back, provoking him to spin around and point at her.

"Kid, do you know who I am!? I am the-"

"Alfred, no!" Pulled away by his friend, he was forced to sit down.

"You'd think the citizens would be more grateful!"

"Oh, they don't know who we are, we can't expect them to revere us like they do when we're-"

"Heroman and Scarfman!" A wavering, female voice was heard - just above the background chatter - but enough to get the attention of the two. "I-I… I…" She backed down a little, before frowning and shouting, in a menacing voice that hushed the mall. "**That I should be so fortunate to see you here!**" The unassuming girl's hair burst from the roots into a fiery red, her high collar bust downwards - revealing a swarming nest of plantlife that spread down, consuming her clothes and giving her a modest gown of thorny vines and roses sprouting at her shoulders.

"Ohh, crap, dude!" Alfred stumbled out of his seat, with a hamburger stuck in his mouth. "Quick, Ivan!" Pulling off his bomber jacket, the previously unnoticeable blue tights worn underneath were clear; long with the large 'H' spread across his chest.

"Da!" Removing his coat, and turning it inside-out, Ivan yanked a bit of his scarf over his head; rendering him melded with the background, sans his utility scarf - which glowed with a small, sunflower-shaped logo.

"Heroman! To the rescue! You'll never keep me from endorsing fast food!"

"Scarfman! To the rescue! You'll never prevent burgers from becoming one with Mother Russia!" There was a pause as they nodded to eachother, ensuring that they'd say the next sentence in unison.

"…Poison Iwy!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Heroman - Scarfman - we meet in the perfect place." Poison Iwy tossed her red hair and grinned maliciously. In the brief silence that followed, a young voice could be heard from behind a napkin bin:

"Daddy, that lady looks like Ariel from The Little Mermaid."

"Susie, shh!" With a flick of her wrist, Iwy sent a long vine speeding towards the source of the sound; sending the bin flying, leaving a fleeing man carrying a bewildered-looking five-year-old. Retracting it back into the sleeve of her gown, she sent it hurtling towards Alfred - who dodged just in time, a thorn narrowly missing his ahoge.

"S-Scarfman! Where are you!?" But Ivan was no-where to be seen. Seeing an oncoming weed out of the corner of his eye, he swooped upwards - then to the right, and back, to avoid any other attacks - and deciding to make a tactical retreat.

"Run away!" He yelled (for… _tradition's_ sake only, of course), before zooming out of the fire exit. "Scarfie, where the heck are you!?" He bellowed once safely in the back alley behind the mall.

"I've been here for the last five minutes." A soft voice from behind causing him to spin on his heel, and almost fall over.

"Dude, don't creep me out like that!" A second of silence passed, when it was rudely interrupted by a large chrysanthemum smashing through a nearby window.

"It appears we have some work to do, my friend." Ivan tightened his utility scarf, then touched the sunflower logo - withdrawing a small aerosol can. "Weed killer."

"Ha-ha, alri-i-ight!" Alfred laughed and lead the way back to the mall entrance. "This'll be a piece of-" Kicking the door open with his foot, he was stopped in his tracks - Poison Iwy sat on top of a huge pile of assorted weeds, flowers gone bad, and a really mean-looking tortoise named Bernard. Spread out through the mall were vines and stems, clutching people's legs and dragging them back into the mountain of assorted plantlife.

"I knew you'd be back." She grinned playfully, before sending roses and daisies - her long-range weapons, acting as cherry bombs and shurikens respectively - speeding towards them. Once again, Alfred shot into the air (this time more from fright than tactical defense), and Ivan began sneaking through the shadows of a nearby gothic store, hoping to get close enough to the source to disable it.

"You'll never defeat us, Iwy! We're the invincible team of Heroma and Scarf-" He was swiftly cut off by a daisy-shuriken to the face. "Aargh!" Naturally, being a relatively weak long-range daisy, it did no long-term damage; but hurt like hell while it lasted.

"You forgot someone, you moron!" Came an annoyed voice from the entrance - the action stopped to stare.

"M-Mister Pirateman, you forgot me."

"Quiet, Piratelad." Drawing his sword, the eye-patched face smirked. "Never cross the king of the Golden Age of piracy!" He swept forward, cutting vines with his short sword as he went, his coat flapping behind him and his tricorn hat perched neatly on his head.

"And his sidekick, Piratelad!" Squealed the excitable young boy, still waiting at the entrance - before attacking a potted plant (under the impression that it was a projectile) and falling over.

"Pirateman, you can never defeat my vines! The magic of plants is that they can re-grow… and when shown the adoration they are given…" She paused for a second to lovingly pet Bernard. "They bounce back twice as fast." The tentacle-like vines bubbled at the tips, then bursting forward - almost seeming angry. "Hahaha! I'll never lose with the power of - yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ah!" She let out a high screech - clearly Ivan had reached his goal. Her vines went brown almost instantly, the vines confining hundreds of citizens slithering back under her gown - which was shrivelling too, leaving her street clothes underneath - but her hair remained a blazing red.

"Looks like we are victorious, friends!" A smiling face wrapped in a balaclava appeared.

"Another victory won by… The Hetalia League!"


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Newly introduced characters, ho!

Chapter 3

"You must not buy new uniforms yet, Eliza, we are not yet through with these!" Roderich snapped, ironing a tatty coat for the nth time that morning.

"But Roderich, it is ridiculous. We should not have to fight in shabby clothes!" Elizabeta, or 'Eliza' as she was known to her colleague, whined.

"Uh… well, why not!? You are right, my dear, we should go any buy something new! It doesn't matter the cost, we shall journey somewhere and enjoy shopping!" Dumping the greying garments in the bin, he and Eliza giggled enthusiastically on the way to their destination. Roderich promised Eliza a costume that would sparkle; covered in jewels, for they were worth it, and how much would it matter, after all… until they actually reached the outfitter's.

"Roderich, what do you think of this one?" She stepped elegantly out of her changing room, adorned in a glittering ball gown - it seemed she had forgotten that they were shopping for _combat_ equipment. Roderich frowned, and Eliza sighed - knowing that his high was over.

"I do not know, Eliza. Look at the price tag. Does it have good pocket space?" He shook his head. "I knew we should have gone to a cheaper shop." He shook his head.

"No, work is more fun than going around every bargain bin in sight." She groaned.

"Very well, we will return to the base." Eliza returned to the changing room in a huff. Soon, they were hunched over a computer screen, giggling away to eachother, doing what they did best.

"Maybe if we add this…"

"No - that one looks better."

"You are mad, Eliza! If we combine these two here, we can…" They'd sit like this for hours, sometimes; and today was no exception. A large project near its completion was almost ready to put into motion; but first, Eliza had a few concerns.

"Roderich, maybe they will be prepared as they were last time. You may be able to bounce back, but I find it embarrassing. My morale is suffering."

"Do not worry, my dear. We have always done the surprise attacks the best, and if we do not stick to what we know, then, we may as well hand over the advantage." He tapped away a little more.

"I suppose that is true. What are we going to do about uniforms, though? I refuse to wear a nasty, cheap item." She crossed her arms, and made a small 'humph' noise. "Humph."

"Do not fear, I patched our old ones up."

"Oh, Roderich! That is just like you! That kind of thing… it doesn't suit me. I will show you." She crossed the room to the auto-dressers, emerging after a few seconds - a look of shock on her face. "Ahh, it looks… even better!" She twirled, delighted. She was clad in a red-and-black jumpsuit, complete with harlequin hat and white trimming, her face plastered with white foundation and a black mask around her eyes.

"Indeed, Eliza." Roderich joined her, soon wearing a patchy purple coat and similar foundation. "Soon, we shall take on the Hetalia League, and wreck chaos on this world!" Eliza smiled and drew close.

"…Ringmaster."

"'Liza. Come now… why so serious?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Alfred lounged back in his chair, sighing contently.

"Dudes, there's nothing better than this." Ivan gave him an annoyed look.

"That may be your opinion, Alfred. You could always help us clean up, you know." Unfortunately for everyone inhabiting the base at that time, the entrance hall - and everywhere else, for that matter - was a complete and utter dump. It was as though someone had brought a particularly rowdy band of drunk bears around to drink cheap whisky and ruin the curtains while everyone else was either out or comatose. This was - almost - what had happened the previous night.

"What kind of thoughtless halfwit would do such a thing?" grumbled Arthur, spearing a suspect-looking half of an old hamburger with his rapier. "Alfred…"

"Hey, I'm not the only one who eats those things around here." Alfred pulled an innocent face - well, as innocent as he could manage. "Give that thing here." Taking control of the rapier (much to Arthur's discomfort), he tentatively sniffed the soggy meat.

"French, with no doubts here." On cue, a groan was heard from under a toppled bookcase.

"Can someone give me a hand with this thing?" A voice accompanied it.

"Oh, god. Francis, you didn't bring your stupid French friends around again, did you?" asked Arthur, approaching the bookcase. "Wait, don't answer that - you obviously did, and got them all blotto enough to do _this_ to the base. Ivan, help me move his thing." Ivan swiftly lifted up two corners with his bare hands, allowing Francis to roll out from underneath it. His dishevelled hair would've been worthy of a model magazine, despite his obvious hangover - though this was somewhat ruined by the fact that he was wearing nothing but his underwear.

"Those stupid French friends of mine happen to have some very beautiful sister, I will have you know." He sat up, clutching his head. "And some very beautiful wine. Doesn't even give you a hangover…" With this, he promptly fell asleep.

"Irresponsible idiot." Arthur muttered. "You can put the bookcase down now, Ivan."

"But he is still underneath it… will that not crush him to within an inch of his life while he sleeps?"

"…I suppose so. Oh, well - the only way to find out is to try." Prising Ivan's fingers free (and smirking at the muffled crash), Arthur turned back to Alfred - and put on his best grumpy face once more. "So, are you going to help us or not?"

"Naah, man - I'm kind of tired." Alfred yawned melodramatically. "I think I'll just sleep in this chair for a while, you know?" Smirking at Arthur's faux-wound-up expression, he stood and grabbed a bin bag. "I'll help out. I mean, even that little Peter kid's making himself useful." He pointed towards the child in question, who was on his hands and knees among some broken glass.

"Uh… Mister Arthur? Are you sure this is safe?" Clutching a sponge (with a few sellotaped to his elbows, knees, hands and forehead for good measure), a sea of broken bottles stretched out all over the library, awaiting a clumsy, wandering kid - sans sponges.

"Yes, yes, that's what the sponges are for. Best things for getting glass. Be sure to put it in that bag, I'm busy."Arthur and Ivan decided to be in charge of putting furniture in the right places. Spying a towering pile of dressers in a corner (arranged in a style reminiscent of a pillow fort), Arthur tapped Ivan on the shoulder and nodded towards it.

"Okay, let's deconstruct it." Clapping his hands once, Ivan obediently removed each dresser - and neatly placed them down next to him.

"It looks like we have found some survivors of the French party." Huddled in a circle of dressers, a pair of ahoge-clad men were huddled in the foetal position.

"Mister Ivan, Mister Ivan, thank you!" A thankful, sing-song Italian voice trilled, its owner bouncing out. "We were trapped in there since last night! We were very very scared!"

"Speak for yourself, idiot." Who appeared to be his twin - or perhaps, his brother - also emerged, and made an attempt at moving one of his dressers. "It is fine, Ivan, I can deal with this." Failing to move it an inch, Ivan picked it up with one hand.

"It is no trouble, Lovino. I can deal with these easily." Alfred's attention was finally caught - to be fair, a hard task at the best of times.

"Hey, Feli, Lovi! I was wonderin' where you guys had got to! We could've used the Pasta Lantern and Romestro while we were fighting Poison Iwy! Oh, you should've seen some of the moves I pulled off - I did this sweet dive, that was totally awesome, like-" Alfred's speech was cut short by a snort from Arthur.

"Oh, please. I was the one who saved the fight. And, no mention of 'Flash'? Though I can hardly blame you…" He glanced at Francis, still snoozing under the bookcase.

"Why you-!" Hurling an inexplicably damp serviette at Arthur, Alfred prepared himself for retaliation with a dustbin-lid shield.

"Ugh! Do you even know what that is!?" Hoping he'd never find out, Arthur hurled the 'French' hamburger at Alfred - who happened to have dropped his shield while he giggled - an activity he quickly stopped when he was hit in the face with old salad and patty.

"Eww! Dude that's disgusting!" But he began to laugh again, as he threw someone's shirt.

"T-That's disgusting!" Arthur couldn't stop himself laughing as well, at this point - more so when Feliciano walked into the middle of the firing range.

"Oh! Is this a present?" He eyed the card, a panda emblazoned on the front.

"Pff-aahaahaahaa!"


End file.
